Rolled 30, 73, 38, 42 = 183 (4d100)
>>5667348Scorned Guy's kick against 2L's crotch has somehow cured the machine of it's paralysis through a miracle of percussive maintenance. Deploying secondary sensors and surveying the situation at hand, the pair of appendages reaches a wise conclusion: "shit's fucked, time to leg it" And "leg" it did, for it was leg itself.
Escaping was trivial, really, since those buffoons that wiped its team were too absorbed in defiling the bodies. Pft. Amateurs. Professionals only get equipment from trusted sources; looting every body you see is how you end up with ten different freeloaders in your head planning ten different apocalypses. "And a fashion disaster of a loadout", adds Right Leg, member of the Meat Mafia. "Agreed", chime in Left Leg and Pelvis, avid supporters of the Mirror Earth Cult and the Indigo Lodge respectively. None of them know about each other's proclivities, or for that matter their apocalyptic plans.
But enough mental dissing of their newest mortal enemies! Time to get out of this bumfuck forest before they get jumped by an anarcho-primitivist caveman or worse, a hippie. Hopefully this forest has good wi-fi; it'd be a shame to reveal their allegiance to the others, but it might just be that asking for a ride is their only choice...
Rolling for:
>rescue call to the Meat Mafia>rescue call to the Mirror Earth Cult>rescue call to Venutian 911(Indigo Lodge doesn't do rescues so gotta call the next best thing :( )>managing to walk out of the forest on their own(invalidates other rolls if it succeeds) 